


Please don't take my sunshine away

by Galysh_Sky



Series: The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars [1]
Category: Gate 7
Genre: Canon Divergence: Hunger Games, Child Abuse, Child Soldiers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's a Hunger Games AU after all, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other minor OCs used as cannon fodder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-02-11 19:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12941691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galysh_Sky/pseuds/Galysh_Sky
Summary: In some districts it was known as the ‘Reaping,’ in others as the ‘Highest Honor.’ Back home, in District 10 it was known as the ‘Culling.’The culling of all hopes and dreams for dozens of children. The Culling could happen to anyone, no matter how rich, how brave, or how strong, or how bright.Yet the people claimed that the sun would continue to rise in the morning.Until it didn’t.





	1. The other night dear, as I lay sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> The chapter titles are taken from Johnny Cash's rendition of "You are my sunshine." 
> 
> "Chika Nakamura": Scattered flowers in a village.  
> "Sakura Nakamura": Cherry blossoms in a village.  
> "Tachibana Kobayashi": Tachibana tree in a small forest.  
> "Sugi Kobayashi": Cedar tree in a small forest.

               

_June 21 st, Day of the 23rd Culling. District 10. _

               

              District 10 was not a bad place to be born, Tachibana had heard this since he was a child and old enough to string words together. He supposed that he could even agree with the sentiment, they were not the poorest of the poor nor the scummiest of the scum. If anything, District 10 was relatively peaceful as long as you didn’t egg any peacemaker’s houses or anger the wrong person, and if you could ignore the fact that annually two children were selected from the herd, and sent to the slaughter house. The only fault that could be found was that they had never had a Victor to call their own. Out of the 46 children that had been offered up, not a single one had deigned to return. Not even brave Jason with his mighty fists swift to punch out any critics, or wise Elena with her quicksilver tongue.

                At 11 summers, Tachibana had been a nervous wreck. It had taken both Sakura and Sugi’s encouragements to prevent an embarrassing meltdown. He’d broken out crying anyway when the then 16-year-old David had been culled instead. No one needed to know that it had been out of pure relief, though Sugi had seemed too. He’d cried all the harder when Sugi had also been spared, soaking Sakura’s jacket all the way down to his skin. His best friend had not been pleased.

                At 12 summers, Tachibana was a bit better. He didn’t cry, not even when 12-year-old Alex was called up along with 13-year-old Umiko. If he clung tightly to Sugi’s sleeve, no one needed to know, what mattered was that they had pulled through another culling. Days later, the sight of Ume’s disemboweled remains hanging from a pole like a particularly ill-tasted flag had him throwing up for hours. It could have just as easily been his sister.

                Now at 13 summers, Tachibana was expecting much of the same. The sky was overcast when he dragged himself up from his bed that morning, and to make matters worse there was only enough for one cup of tea. In the time it took for it to steep, his mother had returned from her morning run, and Sugi had appeared to lean against the counter. With precise calculations, Tachibana measured out the tea into three separate mugs. The winter had been a doozy and they’d been obliged to repurpose the chairs for firewood, so he sat on the stone countertop instead. It didn’t make a very good replacement, the cold sinking through the thin material of his sleeping pants. When he could delay no longer, he dressed himself for the day, bid his mother goodbye, and set off down the path with his sister.

                Sakura was waiting for them at the gated intersection, from around the bend his voice drifted out loud and cheerful. It brought a hesitant smile to Tachibana’s face and he automatically lengthened his stride, magnanimously ignoring Sugi’s sudden fit of giggles. The three made their way to the old brick building that served as their school house, Sakura regaling them about his cat’s latest stunts. Once seated at his desk though, it had been all to easy to fall back into the pit of vipers residing in his stomach. All around him people sat with curled shoulders, lowered heads, and tight fists. Out of his 9 classmates, 2 of them might be ripped from them in less than 3 hours, it had happened before. District 7 could testify to that. The 11 o’clock bell came much too soon, and with it their dismissal to head home and prepare for the gathering.

                “Are you eating at our house?” Tachibana asked, as he gathered up his stuff before heading out the door. Sakura’s reply was a bright affirmative, complete with a thumbs up. Chika was waiting for them at the house the table already set up with a simple spread of bread, cheese, and berries. His mother’s way of showing her love.

                They walked down to the town center as a family unit, dressed in their Sunday best. Layered dresses for the women and suits for the boys. As had become the norm ever since Chika turned 11, and was thus available for reaping, they walked four abreast. Chika on the left, her hand resting neatly in the crook of her little brother’s elbow. Sakura standing tall and steady his right hand at such an angle that Tachibana could hook their index and honor fingers together. Sugi on the right swinging her brother’s arm as they walked, their mother trailing slightly behind and accompanied by other adult neighbors. Once they’d been left to their own devices with their year mates, time seemed to speed up again as did his heartbeat. As the commencement bells rang out, Sugi settled herself against his side as calm and steady as a boulder, and Sakura leaned on his shoulder with blatant disregard for proper form.

                Ivan was as obnoxiously cheerful as always, dressed to the nines in his military dress uniform, blowing kisses at ‘ _all the pretty ladies_ ’ and saluting the potential ‘ _heroes.’_ It was a step up from last year’s act, where he had broken out into crocodile tears before the bells had even been tolled. Now he prepared himself with a flourish, rolling up his sleeve, shaking up the jar, settling it just right, before he plunged his hand in with a broad smile pasted onto his flushed face. The white slip faded into his pudgy hand, almost the color of his flesh. Ivan spoke then, careful as always to enunciate every vowel and consonants even when the name was as short as ‘ _Chika Nakamura.’_

                Tachibana blinked.

                Sakura jolted, abruptly straightening up.

                Sugi let out a distressed moan, tremulous, and high pitched.

                It was not until Sakura’s elder sister, who had patched up his clothing more times than he could recall, who covered for their escapades and always, infallibly, showed up to dinner on Sundays with a treat, stepped out from amidst the 17-year-olds that the name registered. Chika smiled as she lifted her skirts, curtsied to Ivan, and took her place by his right side. Tachibana stared at her, eyes narrowed in a bid to withhold the hot water he could feel mounting, his head was ringing, his hearing blanking out. Sugi’s grip on his hand grew impossibly tighter when Chika, waved at them, as if she was up there to receive an award. Sakura was pressing against his side seemingly trying to clamber under his skin. Tachibana lifted an arm mechanically, hooked it gently around Sakura’s neck, and pulled his friend’s head down to rest against his shoulder.

                Ivan waited politely for the round of obligatory applause to end, before he dipped his hand back into the jar. He looked at the slip for a long moment before bursting out into raucous laughter, that had the benefit of shaking the stuffing loose from Tachibana’s ears. His hearing was working perfectly when Ivan spoke the next name; “Sakura Nakamura.”

                Tachibana felt the trembling mass pressed against his side freeze, he saw Chika’s poker face break open with the force of that oral strike, he heard Sugi dissolve into sobs, his mouth tasted salty even as his breath got caught somewhere in his throat.

                 45 hours later, it still felt like he couldn’t breathe. In less than three hours his best friend would be shipped out to the slaughter house and he hadn’t been allowed to see him. Sakura and Chika were two of the many orphans that lived in the outskirts of Urashincken, having lost their parents to the epidemic 5 years earlier. They had no recorded family, thus no one could visit them. Tachibana buried his face in his pillow and tried not to scream.

 _50 hours ago_ , Sakura had been sitting here on this very bed, throwing a beanie bag at the ceiling, and smiling warmly. Tachibana rolled over, and curled onto his side. Despite his efforts, his vision went blurry as hot tears welled up and spilled over.


	2. I dreamed I held you in my arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone once told me that if I wanted to read a Gate 7/Hunger Games fanfiction, I should stop complaining and write it myself.  
> So here it is, my self-indulgent attempt to write. I switched from past tense to present tense half-way writing, please drop me a note if I missed anything major (or minor).

 

 

“ _I dreamed I held you in my arms”_

_June 23 rd District 10._

            For a holding cell it isn't that bad, a bit drafty perhaps, but at least the floor has rugs and there are blankets on the bed. Chika lets out a sigh and frees a hand to massage her cheeks, the smile she’s kept up for most of the day finally slipping away. Saku stirs against her side and flings his leg across her lap, channeling his inner octopus. A gentle pat is enough to sooth him though. Chika lets out another sigh and leans back against the wall, she doesn't dare close her eyes. Whenever she does 14 summers of grisly deaths flash before her eyes, at least half of them involving people she had known personally. The sound of footsteps filters in through the door and she stiffens automatically, her hand growing tense on Saku’s shoulder.

           “5 minutes. Not one minute more.”

           She hears a gruff voice say, recognizing it a few moments later as belonging to a peacemaker only a few years older than herself. The wooden door swings open with nary a sound, and standing in the entrance is a god send.

          “Morning,” Mikoto says, lifting an arm to flap her overlong sleeve in greeting. “I brought you a gift.”

          Chika could only stare, words catching in her tightly closing throat. It has been tradition for her year mates to visit each other whenever one of theirs is culled. She hadn’t been expecting anyone though, there is no family to sneak them in.

          “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” Mikoto asks, a smirk curling her lips, but her eyes have a reddish edge to them.

          “Yeah… Yes, of course,” Chika replies, motioning her long-time friend in, she goes to shove Sakura off her but stalls when the image of Alex’s beheaded body rears up. In less than 2 weeks her baby brother could become a headless corpse. With a shaky breath, Chika forgoes the manners that had been ingrained in her since childhood and remains seated. Mikoto seems amused but doesn't say anything just strides in, as she does, two smaller forms pop out from behind her; the twins.

        Screw necessary sleep and preservation of strength.

        Chika is shaking her brother’s shoulder before the thought has even travelled to the forefront of her brain. Sakura came awake with a startled yelp, limbs flailing wildly. It is only due to Chika’s grip that he does not tumble straight to the floor. As it is it still takes him a minute to straighten out and rub the sleep crust from his eyes.

         “Tachi? Sugi? What’re you doing here?” He asks, bringing his legs around to sit cross legged. Chika lowers an arm and settles him against her side, forcing another smile onto her face.

         “We came to see you of course,” Tachibana snaps, his voice was hoarse, and he carries himself as if he had suddenly discovered that he was Atlas designated to bear the weight of the world.

       “You didn’t have to,” her little brother’s voice sounds a bit shaky, “we’re… we’re fine, honest.”

       She doesn't need to look down to see the shit-eating grin he is no doubt displaying, Sugi’s pained expression as her eyes welled up, and the anger blooming in red flowers on Tachi’s cheeks tell her more than enough.

        “Of course, you are!” The black-haired boy snaps taking a few strides forwards. “Nothing scares you after all! Not even death!” He’s close enough now to grab Sakura by his suit lapels and hoist him up. “And why would you?! It’s not like…! It’s not…” Appearing lost for words he settles for shaking the taller boy. 

       “Sorry,” Sakura says softly, “sorry Tachibana.” He reaches out and lays his hands on his friend’s trembling shoulders. “Please don’t cry.” The smaller boy makes an odd sound, strangled and angry, he releases the suit only to readjust and hug him a moment later. Chika leaves the bed as Sakura sprawls backwards, returning the embrace just as tightly. Chika steps carefully over to Mikoto as a small blur darts past her and joins the hug. When she looks at her friend, standing there in an old sweater that she knows belonged to her eldest brother, the words dry up in her throat. There are tears sliding down Mikoto’s pale cheeks, small trails that stain her clothes into a darker hue.

         “One summer,” Mikoto says, so softly Chika has to lean closer to catch the words, “only one.” There’s nothing to say after that, so she doesn’t and neither does Mikoto. The two sit on the ground, shoulder to shoulder, backs to the wall and eyes staring out the barred window. The fingers that intertwine with hers are clammy, and if she concentrates she can almost feel a pulse resonating outwards. Chika rests her head on the familiar shoulder and stares at her brother, there is a promise burning at the back of her throat, one she cannot bring herself to voice. So, she keeps silent, buries it deep in her heart and engraves the sight of how Sakura’s white hair blinds so neatly into Sugi’s platinum and Tachibana’s black strands into the back of her eyelids.

        She doesn’t speak when Mikoto presses their foreheads together, and begs her to ‘ _stay alive,’_  she ruffles Tachi’s hair and drops a kiss on Sugi’s fluffy head. The rest of the day passes by in a monochromatic monotone, she dozes with Sakura curled under her arm and no one else comes to disturb them.

_June 23rd, Capitol Bound Train_.

        His big sister is amazing, Sakura had known that for most of his life. His earliest memories are of warm hands pressing against his cheeks or smoothing down his hair. It is her face that arises when he thinks of safety, hers that is there when he runs home angry and scared and hurting in all the worst ways. Chika is brave. Chika is strong. Chika beats up the children who laugh at them for their raggedy clothes and discolored eyes. If he had to choose, even over Tachibana who is his best friend, Sakura knows that it is his big sister he would pick. It’s a thought with roots that burrow deep into the center of his heart, there is no else that he trusts or loves as much.

      He’s aware of this thought, sitting up in his bed waiting for Chika to return from the vanity, but there is another one that wiggles it way up to the forefront of his mind. One that resounds of wails, stinks of blood, that shows his inner eye rotting corpses and brings bile rising in his throat. People who get culled, die. It’s a fact. There’s only one way not to die, only one way to ensure that his big sister will continue to meet the twins for dinner on Sundays. Sakura stares down, noting with some distress that his hands are trembling, small vibrations that rake up his arms, slide down his spine and settle at the base of his back. He inhales sharply, feeling the air catch in his throat and exhales in more of a gasp than the long breath he’d been going for. If he wants Chika to survive, and he does, she’s his precious big sister, then he’ll have to kill someone. He’ll have to accept the responsibility of having another kids blood on his hands. Sakura rocks forwards burying his head in the sheets, hands grasping up fistfuls of his hair. The sheets are soft against his cheeks, silk, worth more than his entire cottage. They feel weird, hardly thick enough to muffle his whimpers. His stomach is roiling exuding bubbles that drift upwards and burst in his mouth. He chokes, gasps, and swallows forcefully, fingers pressed against his lips.

      He’s not sure how long he remains crouched there, forehead pressed to the silk and arms folded in front of his knees, on the broad bed. But eventually the tremors seize and the urge to vomit recedes back into the pit that is his stomach. He rolls over, stretches, and feels his muscles settle. He slides off the bed, catching himself on the nearby nightstand and staggers out into the hall. It’s devoid of life, no one to see him stumbling into walls as he heads for the showers. The water is cold raising goosebumps where it strikes his skin. There are dark strands of hair swirling in circles in the drain, he crouches down to inspect one. It’s long, surprisingly sturdy and glues itself to his skin, much like how its owner does. Sakura runs a hand trough his own hair, staring through half lidded eyes at the uneven fringes. He briefly entertains the idea the taking a knife to it, but the memory of Sugi’s nimble fingers twisting it back into a braid is still fresh.

     A glint of silver catches his eyes when he steps out from under the spray and reaches out to grab a towel. It’s a full-length mirror, set up next to a pair of deep sinks. There’s more hair curling up around its base and even more lies in the trashcan. Sakura looks at the mirror, eyes narrowed as he faces off with the unhealthily pale boy he sees standing on the the side. Its skinny, starkly out of place amidst the plush décor, long white hair draped over its shoulders and brushing its collar bones. Back home they’d only had a cracked half circle of glass to share. Sakura remembers it hanging over the bathroom sink, remembers that when he’d bothered to glance at it it had reflected a flash of white teeth and glittering eyes. He had liked that boy. This one he hates instinctively, even when he tries on a smile, the image it returns is as distorted as a crazed man’s grin, it sets his stomach to roiling all over again. He abandons the attempt, dresses in the clothes he’s been assigned and slips out again in search of his sister.

    He finds Chika in a bedroom not too far from his own, curled up in the middle of the bed hugging the pillow for all she’s worth. Sakura clambers up, and burrows under the covers until he can rest his back against hers. Already the tension is fading as exhaustion catches up. An arm carelessly smacks him as Chika rolls over and lays her own head just above his, her other arm snaking through to support his head. The warmth of her body combines with his own exhaustion and swamps over him like a tidal wave.


End file.
